


Der König

by thedeadlywriter



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Autistic Germany, F/M, Historically Accurate, No Incest, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-09
Updated: 2019-09-09
Packaged: 2020-10-13 12:00:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,512
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20582138
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thedeadlywriter/pseuds/thedeadlywriter
Summary: The story of the coronation of a young Germany into a unified nation and Empire. (One-shot)





	Der König

**Author's Note:**

> I needed to tell this story... It's been playing in my mind for like three years. Also, I wrote heavy implications that Germany is autistic because I'm autistic and it's important to me that he is, too. Please correct any of my German!

January 18, 1871

The road to Versailles is long. Really long.

But, it was a nice view. Fog settled over the forest, hiding the small hills in the distance. A cool mist sprayed the sides of the black carriage, dripping down into the mud. A doe watched them from the clearing. 

Gilbert hardly ever makes a trip further west of Able’s flower fields. Why should he need to? His territory was in the east, and he barely had the will to make conversation with the pompous westerners outside of bloody battles. But it was a special occasion. 

Wringing his gloves together in his pale fists, Gilbert tracked a droplet of water slide down the glass window. 

A dip in the road caused the carriage to bounce around, knocking Gilbert’s head upon the window, and waking the sleeping body across from him. 

A small boy, the physical age of eight, blinked in the dim sunlight falling on his face. He covered his face with his tiny fingers, rubbing his knuckles against his eyelids. 

“Gilbert?” He yawned, “How much longer?” 

They’d already been riding for three days (counting the occasional stops at small inns in the middle of nowhere), and Gilbert suspected it’d only be a few more hours now. At least he hoped it would be. He wasn’t meant to be stuck in a cramped carriage for days on end. He was starting to get restless. 

“Not long,” said Gilbert. 

With a nod, the boy set his head back on the window and shut his eyes. His black cane scraped on the carriage floor when he pulled it protectively towards him. Gilbert watched the rain again. 

As he was following another raindrop, a massive garden wall appeared into view from behind the mist. Just behind a long stretch of trees and bushes and ponds, stood the mansion. Even if Gilbert sneered at the pomp of Francis’ former monarchs, he had to admit, the palace was impressive. 

Gilbert leaned over and shook the boy awake. “Germany, we’ve arrived,” he said sternly. Germany blinked slowly again, but then shot up from his seat, nearly hitting the roof. “We’re here?” His voice shook. Blue eyes peered through the glass, widening at the sight of the palace. The boy let out a soft whimper before falling back into his seat. 

The hooves on the horses clopped on the cobblestone in front of the grand stairs. Germany tried to look intimidating as the door opened for him. Well, as intimidating as an eight-year-old can be. His black cape whipped around him in the wind, and his back straightened as he stared up at the enormous walls. Gilbert just stepped out of the carriage himself, bending his back to stretch his legs. Servants surrounded their carriage, taking their bags and leading the horses to a stable. Germany fiddled with his cane, awkwardly shifting in his boots, wanting to take the bags himself. 

Gilbert stuck his cane out, tapping on the stone to grab Germany’s attention. “The humans will be coming in a few hours,” He started up the great staircase, Germany trailing behind, “All the countries are already here. Do you remember their names?” Gilbert turned his head to glance over his shoulder at the boy, who was, apparently, trying to find answers on the steps. “Roderich, Erzsebet, Vash, Lilli, uhm… Feliciano, Lovino, and Francis.” 

“Very good. And their countries?” 

“Austria, Hungary, Switzerland, Liechtenstein, North Italy, South Italy, and France.” 

“Excellent, Germany.” 

The servants at the door pulled the handle and showed them into the massive hallway. Germany gaped at the arabesque designs lacing the walls and furniture. The golden ceilings and marble floors let off a glowing shine, and the footsteps of the pair echoed deeply throughout the hall. As much as Germany wanted to wander behind and stare at the ceiling all day, his elder brother took far too fast and long strides. The boy nearly ran into Gilbert’s back when the group suddenly stopped in front of a grand golden door. The servant in leading them announced that their rooms were set up already and that he shall inform France of their arrival. 

The room they were led to was twice as large as Germany’s in Gilbert’s manor. Red velvet cushions on all the benches and stools, which lay in front of multiple desks with large mirrors and an abundance of drawers with golden handles and pink swirls. The dressers received the same decorative treatment. Germany gawked at the bed. There was enough space to fit six of him comfortably: a great upgrade to his bed at the manor. The sheets were soft lavender silk, complete with a feather cover and silk pillows. Germany guessed the mattress was feather stuffed, as well.

Germany set his cane on the corner of the bed and shook his jacket off. Gilbert tilted his head, and a few light pops rang out. Germany tried to follow suit but stopped halfway when a painful twinge went down the side of his neck. He flinched, bringing a hand to his shoulder. Gilbert chuckled. “That’s what happens when you spend three days with your head cracked to the side and touching your shoulder,” Gilbert folded his jacket up and set it on a nearby couch. “This place is too fancy for me,” Gilbert muttered as he fixed his suspenders, “I can feel a toothache just by looking at the place.”

Germany sat down on the bed, sinking in as soon as he did. “I think,” Germany was careful to not disagree with his brother, “Everywhere is too fancy for you.” He laughed slightly. 

Gilbert placed a hand over his heart. “No! One could only dream to surpass Sansoucci!” Gilbert knelt to open his suitcase which was sitting at the foot of his bed. “Besides,” he muttered, “the last time anyone was this fancy, they wound up lying headless in a gutter.” 

Germany shuddered. “Gilbert, please.” A bird fluttered by the window, catching Germany’s attention. He followed it with his eyes, still staring out the window as he rubbed his fingers together. 

Silence fell between the two. Germany hesitated to speak, then, “It’s weird that this is happening today, right? I mean, on your birthday.”

Gilbert raised an eyebrow at Germany. “Why?”

“Well, I--” Germany looked at the wall. “I feel guilty taking away from your birthday to do this,” Gilbert only laughed. “Germany, I’ve been alive for too long to act petty about a missed birthday,” he smiled. “Anyway, I didn’t pick a random day, you know. I wanted this day to be special, and mean something to German and Prussian history. This was the day I was made into a Kingdom a century and a half ago. I thought you’d be a part of my history by doing this today. It’s poetic, you know? It’s like you’re carrying a tradition.” 

Germany furrowed his eyebrows. So upholding tradition is what Gilbert expects of him? Frightening. Just then, a heavy knock sounded from the wooden door. Gilbert jumped to his feet to answer it, but the intruder let himself in. 

“Ah, Gilbert, nice to see you again, old friend.” The man said in French, almost in a monotone voice. He balanced a cigarette between his lips, and his blue eyes stared blankly into Gilbert’s. 

“The same to you,” Gilbert switched to French easily and narrowed his eyes. “Although you are presumptuous to believe we are still friends.” 

The man inhaled into his cigarette. “I’m just trying to be hospitable, it is my palace, after all. Can’t we see beyond war for a few days?” 

“Never worked for you, has it?”

There was a long pause. The man gazed at Germany down his long nose, blue eyes flicked with subtle scrutiny, but with curiosity as well. With a puff, he gestured towards Germany. “So is that the boy?” He switched to German so said boy could understand. Judging from his accent and somewhat broken grammar, Germany guessed the man hadn’t spoken the language in a while. 

Gilbert puffed out his chest and stood next to Germany. “He is. This is the soon-to-be German Empire: a representative of unified Germany,”

Furrowing his eyebrows, Germany glanced up at the man in an attempt to intimidate him. It wasn’t working as well as Germany thought.

“Doesn’t he have a name?” The blonde-haired man asked, inspecting Germany. Gilbert shrugged. “Not yet. I haven’t thought of one. He is only three months old, after all,” he said with a smug grin. 

The man choked on his smoke and coughed into the haze. “W-what?! Three mon-- oh, Gilbert, you must be joking!” 

“Not at all. We’ve been industrializing lately. He’s getting stronger,” Gilbert lay a heavy hand on Germany’s shoulder. The man looked at the boy again with a confused stare but eventually stuck his hand out. “My name is Francis, I am the nation representative of--”

“Of the Republic of France, yes. My brother taught me well,” Germany responded curtly. The boy shook Francis’ hand firmly. “I see he did. He is very good at teaching, isn’t he?” Francis straightened his spine to look at Gilbert directly. “Everyone is in the salon, waiting anxiously for the arrival of Germany. Come,” Francis turned on his heel and walked briskly down the corridor. Germany glanced expectedly at his brother and followed him when he started walking. 

Germany still couldn’t fathom the intense rococo decoration of the palace. The heels of his boots clicked on the marble floor when he walked backward to stare at the murals covering the ceiling. Gilbert and Francis stopped at a large gold door, speaking softly in French. 

“Germany!” 

With a small jump, Germany snapped to attention. His blue eyes shifted to the door, and he brought his hands to the collar of his shirt, straightening out the wrinkles. Even though his hair fell into his eyes, he still tried to swipe it to the side. The beating of his heart grew faster and louder in his ears. He didn’t realize he would be this nervous, but the ends of his fingers vibrated with energy. He took a shallow breath, held it in, and nodded to France to open the door. 

A large room opened into view, with paintings decorating every corner. Pastel landscapes and women in frilly dresses were directly at Germany’s eye level. Gold pipes trace almost every line in the room, bouncing rays of light across the floral chairs from which his family was rising. Two men, one woman, and a small girl met Germany’s gaze curiously. The wooden floors creaked as Gilbert stopped and shifted his weight onto his cane.

“Where’s Feliciano and Lovino?” Gilbert asked aloud. 

A man with dark hair combed to the side and thin wire glasses responded, “They had something come up. They have their own unification to handle right now.” The man adjusted his glasses and glanced at Germany. The boy sank into his shirt ever so slightly under the elder’s gaze. 

“He’s taller than I thought he would be,” the man muttered under his breath. Germany felt his cheeks warm. With one more glance at the boy up and down, the man stuck out his hand. “I am Austria, and this is my wife, Hungary,” he motioned at the woman standing behind him. 

She was wearing a big green dress with several layers of ruffles, tightly sewn together with buttons and bows. A trail of lace and satin covered her feet, but Germany could tell from the clicks on the wood when she approached him that she wore a small heel. Her brown hair was partially covered by a marvelous hat decorated with a multitude of flowers and ribbons. Suddenly Germany felt underdressed. 

The other man still sat near the chairs, throwing Germany a cautious glare under his blond bangs. Austria used his cane to gesture at the man, “That would be Switzerland, and little Liechtenstein,” The little girl pulled at the hem of her white dress to give a polite courtesy at Germany. The boy was taken aback by the gesture, flushing when he gave a short nod in response. 

“Well, Gilbert,” Austria sighed, “Now that you’ve dragged us all the way to France, is there something you’d like to discuss, or would you just like to brag about your little brother?” He raised his chin in the air, peering down his nose. Gilbert huffed, “Actually, Roder-dick, I’ve called you here to attend Germany’s coronation, seeing how he’ll be around you for the next eternity. Furthermore, it is a chance for my brother to know the rest of his family.”

“So you are showing him off to the world,”

“Shut up, you’re just mad because you weren’t invited to be apart of the Empire,” Gilbert shot a smug look at his cousin.

Roderich tightened his lips. “No,” he let out a short breath, “It’s because you won’t do a good job at raising the boy. You’ll fill his head with crazy militaristic ideals, completely ignoring the proper way to raise a young country. He needs to be taught music, art, diplomacy--”

“He doesn’t have time to learn that prissy shit! Especially when he,” Gilbert jutted a finger in Francis’ direction, “is looming over his head! War is inevitable, and a young nation like Germany needs to learn the techniques quickly if he is ever to survive the next century!” 

Elizabeta was quick to jump between the two men who were still glaring at each other. “All right! We’re here for Germany, not to bicker,” She shot a look at Gilbert. Gilbert opened his mouth to say something in retort, but when Elizabeta gave him another, more stern look, he scoffed and crossed his arms.

“Can I at least give Germany some time to practise the ceremony? Oh, with your permission, of course,” Gilbert scowled at Roderich. Roderich shifted his weight on his feet, and with a sigh, twirled his hand in a “go ahead” motion. Germany jumped to take long strides to keep up with his older brother, who was now fuming out of the room and down the corridor. There was a tense silence, cut only by the echoes of both pairs of boots clicking on the marble. “Don’t let other nations talk down to you, Germany. That’s not how respect is earned.” Gilbert huffed. 

Germany fiddled with his hands, staring down at his feet as they walked into a large ballroom. The room was filled with windows that stretched from the ceiling to the floor. Brilliant crystal chandeliers hung from painted ceilings of cherubs and kings, lined with sparkling gold arabesques. The muted sun still gave the room its golden sheen, despite the grey clouds looming over the palace. Marble statues watched over the pair with a slight smirk, as others welcomed their presence with brass trumpets, held over their heads as if they were building a bridge. Gilbert walked ahead to a small staircase at the end of the hall, surrounded by a shroud of flags. Gilbert turned to Germany with a stern look in his eye. Germany almost flinched at his brother’s burning red eyes which bore into him. Almost. 

“The coronation process isn’t that difficult,” Gilbert started as he walked up the stairs, “especially considering we don’t do masses anymore. You don’t have to do much. Just wait until Wilhem is proclaimed emperor, and then you will be proclaimed Empire after that.” Gilbert flicked a small piece of lint off one of the flags. “You know, act regal.” 

Regal. Regal, regal empire. 

Germany’s hands were shaking. 

Empire? 

Him? A mere eight-year-old boy? The thought was terrifying. There was so much pressure to become a true protegee of Prussian history. A mere shadow of past glory, more like. Would Germany be able to become a great empire as Bismark expected? Like Gilbert expected? Would Gilbert be proud? And what terrified him even more: would he be able to live up to his predecessor’s name? 

It’s all becoming so real. On the road from Potsdam to Versailles, becoming an Empire seemed like a distant thought. Now, it’s tangible, and coming to reality in a matter of hours. 

“Before the ceremony starts,” Gilbert’s voice interrupted Germany’s thoughts, “You need a human name, now that you’re becoming a real country now.” Gilbert’s eyes turned to the ceiling in thought. Germany acted like he was trying to come up with a name too, but he had no idea how to actually find one. 

“You know, a lot of Louis’ have lived in this palace,” Gilbert muttered, “Louis…” Finally, he looked back down to Germany. “Ludwig. Your name is Ludwig.” 

The minutes ticked by and Germany-no, Ludwig-, sat in his temporary bedroom buttoning up his jacket. The brass buttons on the uniform were slippery to the touch, and they’d occasionally slide out from under Ludwig’s fingers. The wool collar itched at his neck and jawbone. The shoulders didn’t line up right. The fabric crinkled under Ludwig’s arms, pinching his skin. 

Far from regal. 

Gilbert said that one of his uniforms would look very nice on Ludwig; the red and gold of the collar and the almost black jacket would compliment Ludwig’s appearance. However, Ludwig didn’t feel right in these clothes. It didn’t fit. 

The humans and other countries were waiting in the hall, yet Ludwig stood in front of the mirror, analyzing his every angle. Ludwig ran his hands through his hair, trying to find a good way to style it. Parted on the left, or the right? Down the middle? Should he just keep it down? 

A knock on the door made Ludwig jump. “U-uhm,” Ludwig stuttered--he decided to sweep his hair to the left-- “I’m coming!” With a last tug of his jacket, he pulled open the door. When he expected to find Gilbert hovering over him just outside the door, he got a little more than a pleasant surprise to find his future Emperor, Wilhelm I, standing at the door instead. Ludwig froze up. 

“Y-your Majesty, I was not expecting--” Ludwig stuttered before giving a short bow with a bend of his neck. 

Wilhelm held up his hand. “You do not need to be so formal with me, Germany.” Wilhelm knelt to Ludwig’s level. “I have a gift for you,” He said, reaching in his pocket to pull out a square, thin box. The box was light in Ludwig’s hands as he softly picked it from his Emperor’s gloved hand. “It may not be your birthday, but it is a special occasion,” 

Ludwig pried the box apart. Inside, a small brown book lay, it’s cover tattered and worn. The title was written in gold, swirling lettering: “Goethe: A Collection.”

“It’s his poetry. Well, his most well-known. I read it when I was younger, and I think you would appreciate his writing,” Wilhelm explained. Ludwig flipped through the pages, finding the then-Prince’s handwriting in the margins next to folded corners of the paper. A small breath left Ludwig’s lips. “I… Thank you, your-- I mean, Wilhelm.” 

Wilhelm smiled and rose to his feet, holding out his arm. “Young man, I would like us to walk together to the ceremony. We are getting crowned at the same time, after all.” With a slight smile, Ludwig hooked his arm in Wilhelm’s and started walking towards the ballroom. 

From the hallway, Ludwig could hear the chatter of the spectators rooms away. As he and Wilhelm approached closer to the door, Ludwig’s feet almost froze up. His fingers went numb, and his lips felt dry. It didn’t help at all when the entire hall of people turned their heads to look at Wilhelm and Ludwig walking in the center of the crowd. Dead quiet when the boy walked down the man-made aisle. Pride, worry, and an odd tone of seriousness spread on the faces of all who gathered there. 

The light shining in from the windows blinded Ludwig for a moment, but when he tried to look away, he was met with more refractions of light on the golden frames of the temporary altar. 

Ludwig made eye contact with Gilbert, standing at the base of the staircase with Bismark at his side. Gilbert gave him an encouraging nod as Ludwig stood on the second step, with Wilhelm ascending to the top. 

White noise blurred in Ludwig’s ear, coupled with the slight whispers and *tinks* of dress swords. Wilhelm suddenly turned and gestured to Ludwig, speaking but not making words (at least in Ludwig’s ears). Ludwig stepped up to be beside Wilhelm with trembling legs, gazing upon his legion. 

His uniform still hung from his body awkwardly. From the corner of his eye, Ludwig caught his family standing among the crowd smiling at him. He shifted his glance to Gilbert, though he wasn’t sure why. What was he looking for? Assurance? Acceptance? Denial? Not certain. However, Gilbert gave a crooked smile and bowed his head slightly at Ludwig. The shoulders of his jacket still wrinkled as Ludwig raised his arm in acknowledgment. Ah well. He’ll grow into it. 

“Heil der Kaiser Wilhelm! Heil dem Deutsche Reich! Lange lebe der Reich!


End file.
